


kaleidoscope

by jetpackcrows (starglowed)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starglowed/pseuds/jetpackcrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>iwaizumi sleeps in the same bed as oikawa, and the feelings hit him like a hurricane.</p><blockquote>
  <p>it's beautiful, destructive distillation, untouched poetry on iwaizumi's lips; he's never seen anything quite as stunning as oikawa in this moment, so he stays quiet and doesn't breathe and looks carefully through swollen eyelids at his best friend.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	kaleidoscope

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: this is a _really_ old fic so don't judge me thanks
> 
> uh wrote this in half an hour and half asleep pls kill me i know

_"i'm searching_  
_for something that_  
_i can't_  
_reach."_  


* * *

 

it's become something of a habit to iwaizumi, analysing oikawa's star-studded face and quickfire smile and downturned eyes whenever they're together. it's a reflex nowadays for him, his vision always flickering toward the porcelain-brightness of oikawa's collarbones or the stained-glass of his scarred arms, the translucent veins winding around his neck and the bags that look like heartbreak beneath his eyelashes.

two am, thursday morning: they're lying in a bed together, and while iwaizumi isn't in his own house, he's never felt more at home. cramped together on a single bed, a sleeping bag unzipped and draped over their bodies with long limbs interwined; it sounds uncomfortable, sweaty, hot, and _really_ , it is. it _is_ uncomfortable and sweaty and hot, yes: but it's also nice and warm and welcoming, and so iwaizumi will take shaking fingers and an erratic heartbeat over being alone any day, any day.

oikawa's moulded into his side like starlight, liquid fire touching the very surface of his skin before flooding his veins like electricity, a silent predator as always. it's beautiful, destructive distillation, untouched poetry on iwaizumi's lips; he's never seen anything quite as stunning as oikawa in this moment, so he stays quiet and doesn't breathe and looks carefully through swollen eyelids at his best friend, quiet inhales and exhales that tick towards oblivion. he's a young god, eyes wide shut, lashes flickering like lanterns on delicate, deep-freckled skin; he's incandescent, blue and yellow and pink and gold like fireworks, bright and radiant and stupid and lovely. iwaizumi can see the uneven patches on his cheeks where he used to have acne, the crinkles underneath sleepy eyes that creep into his forehead as laughter lines, and yet he still loves him, still loves him, loves the kaleidoscope of colour and ripped paper towel kisses and linked fingers that is oikawa tooru.

and as oikawa sleeps, he dissolves into a saturated sunrise. iwaizumi likes oikawa's glasses, but right now they're tucked aside in a case next to the trash bin. the lids of his eyes are bare, latticed with blue veins that are sinewy and tree-like; the veins reach down into his throat and adam's apple, naked and gorgeous, illuminated in the dim light like... like, _fuck, oikawa, please don't do this to me, please don't, please_. iwaizumi's arms are wrapped around oikawa's lithe torso, and he can feel every breath, every colour of the spectrum spill into his body, and- and his legs are laced with oikawa's, a beautiful disaster, and there's heat radiating from between his thighs, fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

breathing. three am, iwaizumi's tossing and turning, and oikawa is _on_ him, they are one and they are together and nothing has ever screamed _right_ so much in his entire life. oikawa's dreaming and he twitches a bit, hums lowly and moans in a way that makes iwaizumi heat up, and he grinds against him a little, desperate for the pressure between his legs to go. then they're back to spooning again somehow, the first time in all these nights spent together, oikawa's soft hands pressing against iwaizumi's rougher, calloused ones on his stomach like tsunami waves. iwaizumi can feel where he's bitten his own nails raw from staring at oikawa so much, and when he stares at oikawa this time, he notices how his lips are bitten raw too, the poster look for _i work hard_ and _i'm going to achieve perfection_ and _hard work over genius, hard work over genius, hard work over fucking genius._

 _he's so fucking beautiful_ , iwaizumi thinks, and it's all such a fucking mess. _he's so fucking warm and beautiful with the coldest fucking eyes and widest fucking smile. i want to kill him, kill him, kiss him, trace at that jaw and pull him closer and hold him tight, tight, tight till he's dead, till he's mine, till he loves me as much as i love him, i don't love him, i love him, i love him so fucking much, fuck. i need oikawa._

it hits him like a freight train. _i need oikawa, i need oikawa, i need oikawa_. he needs this boy: this boy who looks like the aftermath of a thunderstorm, fiery skies and explosions of cloudlight and stardrops pouring from the empyrean, heaven embodied and lightning bearing down on green fields like it's visceral, feral. he needs this boy, this narcissistic fool, this living contradiction who's thunder and sunshine and rain and sleet all at the same time, the feeling of tripping on drugs and laying in bed till it's seven 'o' clock when the world is at rest at last, a fucking hurricane in all he is, fucking beautiful. he needs this boy, with all his mood swings and inability to show human affection half the time and lack of interest in caring or being cared for; he needs this boy, who's carved his place among the stars and breathes volleyball through his lips, jump-serves exactly one hundred and seventy five times at the end of every practice.

he needs oikawa.

he moves his face slightly and buries it in the crook of oikawa's neck for a while, candle-warm and crystal-bright. he presses his lips against oikawa's temple, his brow bone, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. he mouths _"i need you"_ into the skin of his best friend, drags splayed fingertips down to entwine cautiously with the silver-lipped boy's, feels the chasmic pulse and blinking heartbeat as though it's his own. 

then he turns away and falls asleep, and dreams of oikawa's face and oikawa's light. _because that's what being in love means_ , iwaizumi thinks. to fully devote yourself to another person, no matter what the cost, no matter how much they don't seem to reciprocate. _love is a kaleidoscope_ , iwaizumi knows. _but i'm willing to work through it. i've always been more comfortable in chaos._


End file.
